. Grown persons
likewise indulged in games of blind man's buff, and amusements of a
like character; whilst at one time, the king, queen, and the whole court
falling into much extravagance, as Burnet says, "went about masked, and
came into houses unknown, and danced there with a great deal of wild
frolic. In all this they were so disguised, that without being in the
secret, none could distinguish them. They were carried about in hackney
chairs. Once the queen's chairmen, not knowing who she was, went from
her; so she was alone and was much disturbed, and came to Whitehall in a
hackney coach; some say it was in a cart."

Dancing was also a favourite and common amusement amongst all classes.
Scarce a week went by that Whitehall was not lighted up for a ball,
at which the king, queen, and courtiers danced bransles, corants, and
French figures; [The bransle, or brawl, had all the characteristics of
a country-dance; several persons taking part in it, and all at various
times joining hands. The corant was a swift lively dance, in which two
persons only took part, and was not unlike our modern galop.] and no
night passed but such entertainments were likewise held in the city.
Billiards and chess were also played, whilst gambling became a ruling
passion. The queen, Duchess of York, and Duchess of Cleveland had
each her card-table, around which courtiers thronged to win and lose
prodigious sums. The latter being a thorough rake at heart, delighted
in the excitement which hazard afforded; and the sums changing owners
at her hoard were sometimes enormous. Occasionally she played for a
thousand, or fifteen hundred pounds at a cast, and in a single night
lost as much as twenty-five hundred guineas. It is related that once
when playing basset she lost all her money; but, being unwilling to
retire, and hopeful of regaining her losses, she asked young Churchill,
on whom she had bestowed many favours, to lend her twenty pieces. Though
the wily youth had a thousand before him on the table, he coolly refused
her request, on the plea that the bank--which he was then keeping--never
lent. "Not a person in the place," says the narrator of this anecdote,
"but blamed him; as to the duchess, her resentment burst out into a
bleeding at her nose, and breaking of her lace, without which aid it is
believed her vexation had killed her on the spot."

The courtly Evelyn speaks of a certain Twelfth-night, when the king
opened the revels in his privy cha